


Spinning Wheels

by orphan_account



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F, Mentions of biphobia/homophobia.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-03
Updated: 2014-04-03
Packaged: 2018-01-18 02:05:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1410937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>By now May has discovered many of what she calls Lan Fan’s defences. Layers upon layers of shields and aegises poised to repel any attack—and any perceived threat—to bounce back to the world that dared volley its attack at her. Yet the same layers upon layers of shields and aegises repel the sunlight as well. Internally May catalogues the defences, organising them by cause and effect, by intensity and duration, by how to snap her back into happiness once the defence has run its course.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Spinning Wheels

**Author's Note:**

> Written for f_r's "AU exchange" prompt on LP.
> 
> Written for firus_rising and my modern AU featuring all your favourite queercanons dressed in a college wonderland. If you know me an author then you know the rundown.
> 
> Unedited/unbeta'd/etc.

By now May has discovered many of what she calls Lan Fan’s _defences_. Layers upon layers of shields and aegises poised to repel any attack—and any perceived threat—to bounce back to the world that dared volley its attack at her. Yet the same layers upon layers of shields and aegises repel the sunlight as well. Internally May catalogues the defences, organising them by cause and effect, by intensity and duration, by how to snap her back into happiness once the defence has run its course.

This particular defence is known as _driving_ , and the typical spark—from her quiet brand of research—is hearing about the latest punishment to rip apart the Chang-Yao household. May watches Lan Fan tap out the rhythmic leylines of the song on the radio less out of the likeability of the song and more out of a desperate desire to exert some measure of influence over her world. The light overhead, reflected in the curved pane of the windshield, flicks to red and green. The car shudders. For a moment the radio sputters and skips and Lan Fan’s pupils dart in its direction as if daring the battery to die. Then it plays on. The vehicle rolls forward under splashes of alternating street-lamplight and shadow, broken up solely by the pale hints of the waning moon.

By now May has heard not to ask questions past sunset. That when Lan Fan tosses pebbles at her window and May finds her parked outside in the used auto she bought the summer before she left for college but keeps in better shape than Ling’s three-month-old yellow speedster, May needs merely dive into the passenger’s seat and trust her girlfriend to have a destination in mind.

Still, one question hangs on her tongue: “Ling told you?”

“Not in so many words. But it’s not hard to guess from his tone.”

“Oh.” May dips her head. “It wasn’t bad this time. They were just telling me to quit with the, mm, biromantic ‘nonsense’.” She chuckles to herself, but Lan Fan says nothing. Drives onwards. “Telling me that there’s nothing wrong with being _attracted_ to both, but that if I have the choice, I should go ahead and settle down with some guy or whatever.”

The auto slows; May glances out at the road ahead and notes the stop sign. She can’t quite contain the exhalation of relief: Safe driving indicates mental control. Then the car slows again, this time without an obvious cause, and May inhales a shaking breath.

Lan Fan’s own breaths have quickened and deepened, just enough for May to notice. Not that anyone else, bar perhaps Ling, would. But May _knows_ her. Knows what she’ll say next: “You know,” Lan Fan says as levelly as possible, as painfully and agonisingly as possible, “if you want to break up, you just need to say the word.” A pause, an inspiration, a shuddering expiration. “I’d never—I’d never force you to—”

Within an instant May has snatched Lan Fan’s nearest wrist from the steering wheel. Has jerked her arm back into her lap. Has narrowed her eyes and met Lan Fan’s gaze with the defiance of one refuting a deity.

“Lan Fan, if I didn’t love you, do you _really_ think I would’ve climbed out of my window and gone driving with you in the middle of Sunday night when I’ve got to drive back to campus tomorrow morning for class?” Lan Fan responds with a throaty noise that May has learned means _oh_. “And in case you didn’t catch that, I love you. Meatbun-head.”

“Says the girl who has literal meatbuns on her head.” But beneath the irritation May can hear the heady medley: gratitude; relief; happiness. Lan Fan twists her wrist up to grip May’s hand, lifts it up, and kisses her palm gently, wetly. May smiles, almost to herself but for the sudden light from the dashboard of the reignited car. “And speaking of meatbuns, I thought I heard your stomach rumbling earlier.”

As rapidly as physics will allow May pounces upon the change in gears. “You know how much I ate tonight? Zilch! Absolutely nothing! My mom’s on another one of her _healthy food_ drives and my dad’s on a diet, so the only person in the house who actually has something to eat is Xiao Mei, and . . . !”

Lan Fan laughs along the entire road to the take-out Chinese where they snigger about chop suey and lo mein and the audacity of passing-off sushi as authentic Chinese cuisine. By the time May sneaks into her window it’s seven in the morning and she has half an hour prior to having to get dressed and prepped to return the university. Not to mention that physics test just after lunch. Or the report she still needs to revise and print.

But even as she waves good-bye through the window pane, even as she watches the black auto disappear into the horizon, even as the exhaustion hits like a gold-leafed brick to the skull, she knows she wouldn’t have spent her night any other way.


End file.
